


before dawn

by transcendencism



Series: prompts from tumblr [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: (Theron has a glass of whiskey thats it), (chris you will almost definitely recognize it... i hope lmao), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, alcohol mention, if you've known me a long time you might recognize it, kind of, stealing clothes, there's a reference to an old thyroh fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transcendencism/pseuds/transcendencism
Summary: "Behind him, Hyroh’s breaths deepen to soft, long snores. It’s been a long time since he’s slept so peacefully, and that realization gives Theron’s heart another squeeze.Not every night is like this, a lot of them aren’t like this. Whether Valkorion has gotten quieter or Hyroh has simply gotten better at dealing with it, Theron doesn’t know. He wants to know, and he wishes Hyroh would tell him. But he doesn’t relentlessly push for answers like Hyroh does; if it needs to be said, Hyroh will say it, sooner or later."
Relationships: Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython & Theron Shan, Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Theron Shan
Series: prompts from tumblr [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813855
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	before dawn

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt from my swtor sideblog, @gaycytharat on tumblr!

There’s a half-finished glass of whiskey on Theron’s desk, an accidental elbow nudge away from stained, liquor-soaked carpet. But Theron’s been sitting fairly still for the past--he glances at the chrono--three hours, and has kept his arm away from the alcohol except when he takes a sip of it. Speaking of, he breaks his gaze from the datapad (he pointedly ignores the burning behind his eyes) and frames the glass with callused fingers, lifting it to his lips for a long, slow drink.

The numbers and figures swim around the screen when he looks back at it, and his shoulders deflate with a heavy sigh. At this time of year, as the temperatures rise and the rainstorms move in, the nights are shorter, and soon Odessen’s sun will be laughing at him through the window. He  _ could _ leave finishing the report for the morning, once he can see more clearly. He gives the datapad one last look before groaning and dropping it down onto the desk.

There’s been much to do since the “detour” to Iokath; he hadn’t been able to gather much, there was so much going on, but Te’razi requested that he organize the data. Theron massages his brow and pushes the datapad further away from him. It can wait until tomorrow. It’s  _ already _ tomorrow, his brain helpfully reminds him, and Theron downs the last of the whiskey. The alcohol burns the whole way down his throat, but it wakes him enough to make it to the bedroom without crashing. He hopes, at least.

He peels himself out of the desk chair and frowns at the crackling pops from his spine. Theron groans; he can’t be getting  _ that _ old. Finally up, he stumbles out of the office and begins the walk down the hall that joins it to the bedroom. The door opens with a soft hiss, and Theron’s hand wanders the wall until he flicks on the light.

The lamp on the nearest side of the bed turns on, and Theron chokes out a soft, fond laugh at the sight. Hyroh’s folded up, arms wound around a bundle of red fabric; his chin tips down when the light washes over the bed, burying his face into the jacket. Theron hadn’t expected Hyroh to wait up for him, but this… he has to cover his mouth to smother another laugh. 

Hyroh’s notched ear twitches, but he stays asleep, even when the bed sinks under the weight of Theron’s knee as he leans across the empty space. There’s a few black, shiny curls that have fallen over Hyroh’s eyes, so Theron tenderly brushes them back and tucks them behind his ear. The contented hum that passes his lips tugs at his heart, and Theron pulls back before he’s entranced by it.

He heads to the laundry hamper, pulling his shirt up over his head, followed by the quiet jangle of his belt and the shuffle of his trousers. The belt goes up half-rolled on top of the dresser, and the clothes into the hamper. Behind him, Hyroh’s breaths deepen to soft, long snores. It’s been a long time since he’s slept so peacefully, and that realization gives Theron’s heart another squeeze.

Not every night is like this,  _ a lot _ of them aren’t like this. Whether Valkorion has gotten quieter or Hyroh has simply gotten better at dealing with it, Theron doesn’t know. He  _ wants _ to know, and he wishes Hyroh would tell him. But he doesn’t relentlessly push for answers like Hyroh does; if it needs to be said, Hyroh will say it, sooner or later.

He turns around back to the bed, turns off the light, and cautiously crawls onto the mattress to keep Hyroh from stirring too much. Once he’s settled comfortably, Theron attempts to grab the jacket and carefully pull it out of his arms. Apparently, Hyroh isn’t keen on letting it go. Theron drops his hands away when something like a growl sleepily rumbles in the Cathar’s throat.

Theron stifles a chuckle; it seems, in his sleep, Hyroh’s mistaken that jacket for Theron himself. No wonder he’s holding on so tight. “Okay, okay…” he smiles, watching Hyroh’s face for any sign of waking, “you can have it, then.” He’s starting to think this might be payback for the amount of times Theron’s nabbed his shirts.

Reminds him of that first time on Yavin 4. His jacket had gotten caked in mud, but otherwise unscathed; his jumper wasn’t quite so lucky when that Massassi took a swipe at him. Hyroh saved his ass, and hadn’t complained when Theron left spots of blood around his ship.

_ Sitting on the rim of the bathtub with large, gentle hands spreading kolto on the gash--luckily not too deep--and then winding bandages around his middle. “It’s a shame about the shirt, I quite liked that one,” Hyroh said sweetly, that mischievous twinkle in those deep blue eyes. The pressure on his stomach made Theron flush, which only pulled another laugh out of him. _

One thing had led to another, and in the morning Theron was without a shirt. Fortunately, Hyroh had spares.

_ “Is that… my shirt?” _

The memory dulls the last of the tension, and he melts into the mattress. It’s only when he stops reminiscing that he notices a pair of cobalt eyes staring back at him. Theron coughs as his cheeks darken. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” Hyroh’s voice is hoarse with sleep. His jaw stretches in a yawn, and he lazily tosses the jacket to Force knows where before pulling Theron up to his chest. Theron finds his place tucked perfectly against him, face pressed into his shoulder and one arm thrown over his waist.

Theron smiles. “I thought you liked that jacket?”

One of Hyroh’s hands starts to card through his hair, claws lightly scratching at the base of his scalp. “Mm,” Hyroh rests his chin on top of his head, “I prefer the real deal.”

_ The real deal _ . Theron chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the hollow of Hyroh’s throat. “So do I.”  It’ll be morning soon, but there’s still time for… this. He smiles and closes his eyes, Hyroh’s fingers gently working through his hair and finally lulling him to sleep.


End file.
